Abby Spencer Goes to Bollywood by Varsha Bajaj

Author:Varsha Bajaj [Bajaj, Varsha]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
ISBN: 978-1-4804-7557-1
Publisher: Albert Whitman & Company
Published: 2014-01-31T19:00:00+00:00

Chapter 1 5

Holy cow!

The movie does end. Harsh lights replace the magical, whispering dark. Abruptly Shaan and I move apart. Shaan sticks his hands into his pockets and I tie my purse string into an unnecessary knot. Jay asks us all, “Who’s hungry for pizza?” We walked over to a pizza place across the street. I didn’t expect to see Pizza Hut or McDonalds or KFC in India, but here they are.

Jay orders chicken tikka pizzas and we settle into a booth and dig in. Yup, the pizza has chicken tikka as a topping instead of pepperoni. And it is yummy!

Shaan said, “Hey, Jay, doesn’t mandir mean temple in Hindi?”

“Yes, it does. I’d never thought about the theater being called Mandir Cinema.”

“Well, in that temple, Naveen Kumar is god!” Shaan declares with his mouth full.

“And Rani is the goddess, isn’t she?” Jay and his friend drool over Rani.

My thoughts drift away.

Before I went to middle school and decided I didn’t need a father, I often wished that my dad would come and whisk my mom and me away. Not on a horse or anything, but drive up in a car. I know it was a silly crazy Parent Trap notion. Happy neat endings only happen in Disney movies. I scold myself, Grow up, Abby.

But it was such a perfect daydream that I couldn’t help myself. Dad would come over and meet Mom, and they would fall for each other all over again. Maybe they would whisper in the dark like Shaan and I did at the movies. Mom isn’t dating anyone so that isn’t a problem. Why did Dad have to be dating this horrible, beautiful Rani creature? Bollywood’s Brangelina! Hrumph!

I bite into my yummalicious piece of pizza.

What would Dad think of today’s Mom? He told me he was impressed that she ran her own business.

Yesterday after Concert Time Dad became a bit mushy. “Your mom did an amazing job raising you on her own. I’ll always owe her.”

Grandma kissed me on my forehead, said something in

Hindi, and then went to bed.

“What did Grandma say?” I asked Dad. “She wants the evil eye to never fall on you.”

Dad and I continued to sit on the antique wood swing outside. Its broad wooden seat was polished smooth with use and the carved brass ropes on which it was suspended told stories.

“Hey, Abby, why the smile?” Jay asks, bringing me back to the present.

“Oh! I’m thinking of dessert,” I lie.

“Have you tried kulfi?” Shaan asks. “It’s an Indian ice cream.”

An hour and a pistachio kulfi later, Jay jumps to his feet. “Do you guys realize the time? I promised my girlfriend I would meet her at six! She hates it when I am late and I was late twice last week. Three strikes and I may be toast. So we better hurry back. Ravi, follow me.”

I think he just wanted an excuse to drive crazy. He jumps on the bike and I hurry after him. Here we go again! I clutch his shoulders and he guns the bike.

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